there's a hole in my soul

"when the sun goes down and the die is cast... when the die is cast and you have no choice... "

[cfmusings-blog]

              ❝ no one ever tells you how dangerous loyalty can be. ❞

[sarahabdul4-deactivated20170928]

I’m not searching for my other half because I’m not a half.

Realizing this is one of the things that made the biggest difference in my life, not just in my relationships. (via plathandstone)

[justanotherrpmusing]

You’re vulnerable; you are not a robot.

I Am Not A Robot (via justanotherrpmusing)

[fortherpwriters]

Home   is   not a  place It’s   things   in   your life That   make   you   feel       Less       lonely

[musesgonnamuse]

born in G R I E F

raised in H A T E

helpless to defy their F A T E

[musesgonnamuse]

that’s the DIFFERENCE between YOU & ME

          you WEAR a weapon

                                       i AM a weapon

[unbeatablejones]

Gwenog hadn’t gone to Hogsmeade, instead choosing to fly around the pitch and help Felix Fortescue with his essay. She’d made the plans before the announcement of the Ball, and she didn’t want to let Felix down, even if she now realized she was lacking in the dress robes department. Oh well. She didn’t much see the point of going to the Ball anyway, since it was so close to the first Quidditch match of the season. She laughed to herself– she certainly didn’t have a date.

As she walked back to the Ravenclaw common room, she saw one of her fellow students struggling to carry a pile of packages from the various stores they’d visited that day. She couldn’t see who it was behind the pile, but she commented wryly anyway. “Productive day at Hogsmeade, then?”

[rabastans-blog]

Balance had never been a particularly strong point for Rabastan - there was a reason he didn’t play Quidditch, after all - and so the art of juggling multiple objects was not something he was skilled at. He hadn’t planned to purchase this much in the first place, but he did need a costume and his supply of honeycomb was running out and Phobos always enjoys a few treats, and so as one can expect the packages went piling up.  But as enjoyable as that may have been on his way out of Hogsmeade, after walking back to the castle his arms were beginning to ache and he was starting to think that perhaps he should have reigned himself in. 

Rabastan didn’t recognise the voice at first, but with a few more steps he was standing beside the source and a glance to his left told him that it was in fact Gwenog that made the comment.  Since when has she ever felt the need to joke with me? The thought circled his mind, and was quickly chased with the thought that perhaps she had seen him with Ludo and assumed that he was now approachable ( and compared to his brother, compared to his dormmates, maybe he was ) - the thought was tipped with fear, because if she had seen him with Ludo had she seen how he looked at him?  “You call it productive, I call it tiring.” He replied, giving as much of a shrug as he could manage without tipping the pile over. 

[rabastans-blog]

The nickname was said so softly, so fondly, he found himself leaning into his brother’s side, arm pressed against his, before he could stop himself. He was quiet for a few moments, just listening, though there was a part of him that was grateful for his silence as it scraped his emotions back into line, ordered them into submission once more.  You could be free from the expectation. His words drew the blood from his face, everything turning icy cold as he processed exactly what he’d just said. “How many times…” He started, before coughing and continuing, “How many times has he done this? How many times has he let me off if you take the fall?” It was like it all made sense, like a fog was clearing - years of classes for Rodolphus and abandonment issues for Rabastan, except that it had never occurred to him that he had it better. It had never occurred to him that his story was the easiest, that loneliness meant freedom, that being forgotten meant never being under surveillance. Oh brother, what have you done? “We have to share this.” he said quietly, “It seems like Father is trying to instigate that anyway, but you can’t shoulder this alone.” I didn’t ask for a babysitter His earlier words came to mind, but this time they were accompanied with the realisation that while he hadn’t asked for one, he had grown up with one anyway. For years he had thought he was alone in all this, but Rod had always been there. A surge of affection ran through him at the thought.  “I’m not… I don’t exactly plan on having children anytime soon, Rolf.” He chose his words carefully, “But you know I can’t speak for Andromeda. I can promise you this, though, if I do have a child they won’t be an heir to anything, and they sure as fuck won’t be a Lestrange.”

[closedrod-blog1]

How many times- How could he answer that? How many times- how did he count? “I don’t know.” He told Rabastan honestly, sighing as the other boys shoulder fell into his. “I don’t know, brother. As many times as were possible ever since I was smart enough to make the deal-” Another pause, another inhale. “-the first time you were so young. Too young to be able to sit through a lesson without crying or screaming or trying to throw things at the instructor. I didn’t want you to be punished and father wanted me to present some bullshit for the minister in a week. That would have meant I would lose every single second of freedom for the week to prepared. We fought about it for an hour until I told him that if you could get out of that lesson then I would concede and do it. After that- after that you were just a bartering chip. I’m so sorry-” Rodolphus felt ashamed, but he wasn’t sure what for. Not trying hard enough- not playing their fathers game well enough. “No listen to me Rabastan, this is important.” Was he about to tell him? That their father had promised himself to the dark lord? Because he said he wouldn’t do the same for Rabastan but how was he supposed to believe that now? “He told the dark lord that I would join his forces.” Rodolphus admitted quietly, turning to look at his brother. His eyes were deep and sad, hopeless in the moment. “I- he’ll do the same to you. He told me he wouldn’t, but he’s a fucking liar, isn’t he?”

[rabastans-blog]

He could feel a cold chill creep across his neck and pull every hair to attention, feel the dull throb of a headache start to drum against his temple.  Idon’tknowIdon’tknowIdon’tknowI- “Too many times to count, then?” He wasn’t looking for an answer. He was looking for reassurance that Rodolphus wasn’t serious, because if this was true - if Father had been using his brother (dear brother, beloved brother, needed brother) as a whipping post, then every complaint young Rabastan had made had been selfish. Every time he had cried, every time he had claimed boredom, he had never had a right to complain. How dare you think your childhood was difficult. “Fuck, Rolf. Don’t apologise, please don’t apologise.” He found his brother’s hand where it lay on his knee, curling his fingers around his big brother’s and gripping them tight, “You shouldn’t have done any of that, you never deserved any of that.” Rabastan released his hand, albeit reluctantly, before any of the stragglers in the common room could notice (he didn’t need the comments, neither of them needed the comments.)

He was quiet, after Rodolphus’s words about the Dark Lord. It was like he was watching his future be written by some god-awful, sadistic author. Like he was watching through some lens, through a window, detached and far away from the problem but oh so close at the same time. Rodolphus would be a Death Eater, and he would kill people. He would be a murderer. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting down the bile that threatened to rise, the breakfast that now churned and writhed like a snake in his stomach. When he opened his eyes, he spoke. “I can’t stand against you, Rodolphus. I won’t.”  And you have to take a side, Rabastan. Everybody has to take a side, there is no neutral. “It’s not fair, is it?” None of it was fair.

[rabastans-blog]

“Ah yes, your ever so intimidating brother.” Rabastan rolled his eyes, sarcasm evident in his tone. He was aware that Amycus’ reputation wasn’t particularly pretty, but he’d known him as his brother’s friend for so long that he didn’t bother him. “There’s a long list of reasons why I’m not a Prefect, Alecto, and first years are one of them.”

[delilahxcarrow]

She knew that chances were, Amycus would never do anything to Rabastan solely because he was Rodolphus’s brother and that would make things awkward. But there was no way that Alecto would actually tell Amycus on something like this. “Do I need to go tell him that his reputation is apparently suffering?” She teased. “I have a long list of reasons too. I would detest being a Prefect,” she said, shaking her head. 

[rabastans-blog]

“Don’t fret, now, there are plenty of firsties still petrified by him.” He smirked, before giving a slow shake of his head. “I don’t understand how they do it - what’s the point? Why dedicate so much time to being killjoys?”

[rabastans-blog]

“If anything comes to mind, do share, because honestly I’m at a loss.” He shrugged, before letting out a soft laugh at her next words, “Obviously.”

[narcissablvxk-blog]

“Okay so you could totally like go as a caveman because everyone thinks you’re hot so you could totally show them off. Or you could wear a suit and just call yourself Rich Erthanu, get it? That one cracks me up. Or as one of those Wizard singers in that band… I can’t remember the name right now but that’s an idea!” She offered with a shrug. “I can totally come up with more, but as obvious as my costume is I still haven’t found a date. Unbelievable.”

[rabastans-blog]

“I can always count on an ego boost from you.” He smiled, “I’ve worn too many suits in my days, though. It’d be half off me in the first half an hour.” A musician, however... “I’ll keep it in mind... Surely a date is easier than the costume, Cissa. Who have you asked so far?"

[rabastans-blog]

“I suppose costumes go with the Halloween theme, but the idea of it is one thing, figuring out what to dress as is another.” Rabastan sighed, giving a small shrug, “Have you any ideas?”

[carrow-amycus]

Amycus shrugged his shoulders slightly, “I’ll probably just throw a sheet around my waist and call myself cupid. Gives me an excuse to hit people with arrows, which could be entertaining.” He looked over at Rabastan, “What about you?”

[rabastans-blog]

Rabastan gave a laugh, “Cupid? Because you’re such a romantic, yeah?” He joked, “Any excuse to wield a bow.” 

“I think I’m going as a punk rocker - thought it’d be fun, something different I suppose.”

[chordoverstret-deactivated20240]

#this is so me

[synthmama]

kilgravesjessica:

Four Word . Prompts

“Please, come with me.”

“You’re always number one.”

“I can’t do this.”

“I won’t let you.”

“Maybe I’m just crazy.”

“I’m not even sorry.”

“Honestly, just stop it.”

“I believe in you.”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Who were you with?”

“Please talk to me.”

“I can’t trust you.”

“I need you, though.”

“Don’t be fucking rude.”

“Is that my shirt?”

“So, it was you.”

“I need to go.”

“Just stay with me.”

“You can trust me.”

“Alright, I love you.”

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“Will you help me?”

“You’re a terrible cook.”

“Can you shut up!?”

“You love me, right?”

“I really need you.”

“I don’t love you.”

“I’m not doing this.”

“I really need you.”

“You don’t want me.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’re such a bitch.”

“I can’t do this.”

“You think you’re funny?”

“Hey, I said stop!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Wanna go out sometime?”

“I don’t want this.”

“You always this quiet?”

“Are you fucking insane!?”

“I don’t want you.”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Sorry, were you sleeping?”

“This was never right.”

“You look really tired.”

“I’m out of here.”

“You need to go.”

[rabastans-blog]

He watched the other boy speak more than he listened to him - he followed the quirk of his mouth, the spark behind his eyes, the endless array of little motions he made as he carried the conversation on his back. Rabastan was starting to enjoy himself, liking the ease with which his retorts came from him, liking the quips that filled the air between them. He hadn’t spoken with Ludo much before, and this conversation made him wonder why that was.  “Dead men don’t get far, you’re right there.” He mused, carding a hand through his hair, “That’s an idea, though I’m not sure I’m sold. You’re saying you want me to be your downfall for the night?“ He wasn’t about to admit to himself that he was considering it, but he’d humour Ludo for a while.  “They may have been dicks but at least they were interesting, the lot of them were about as dramatic as a romance novel.” He crooked a brow at Ludo, eyes glinting, “Try me.”

[ludobagmcn]

Ludo had great faith in himself and his ideas, and so could have been expected to be affronted when Rabastan indicated that he wasn’t sold on the idea of Paris. He was not, however, largely because he was certain he had a significant cache of ideas to offer, any of which would be excellent, and also because it was not actually a dismissal of the idea. And so he leaned back into his seat slightly and shrugged, flashing a cheeky grin at the other boy as he said, “hey, there are worse ways to go, right? I feel as if you’d be an excellent downfall.” 

At his next words, Ludo cocked his head to the side in agreement. “That’s true,” he laughed. Ludo’s natural inclination towards amusement and fun meant that he lacked the turbulent brooding drama of the Greeks—as well as a very intentional approach, if one he avoided thinking about, of laughing about things because the alternate reaction was worse—but he definitely appreciated it, in the removed way of an amused observer. “And so many dramatics and such intensity because of romantic entanglements—the original inspiration for the leading men of so many romance novels, probably.”

The self-satisfied, daring smirk was back on Ludo’s face, something encouraged by the look in Rabastan’s eyes. “Michelangelo’s David is pretty daring,” Ludo said casually, appraising the boy, “but I think you can pull it off.” With a slight touch of cheekiness in the curve of his lips, he added, “or you could be a punk rocker, like Jupiter Lynch, though I suppose that’s a different sort of daring… or, if you want to stick it out in the way of the dramatic Greeks but not as my downfall, you could go as Hercules? Or Heracles, technically, if we’re talking Greek.”

[rabastans-blog]

Rabastan sorted through all the files in all the boxes hidden in the nooks of his mind, tucking away Ludo’s ideas for future reference. He knew very little of this Ravenclaw, but with every passing moment his mental file grew and grew. Outgoing. Self-assured. Confident. Humorous. “It’s an honour to be considered for the role.” His tone was dry, laced with sarcasm, but amused nonetheless. He may have known very little in the beginning, but he liked what he saw now, and was sure that that fact shone through his smirk, his tone, his words. 

“Somewhere along the line characters lost the intensity, though. Mythology is much more... Passionate, shall I say, than romance novels.” Memories of literature and culture classes from his youth flooded back to him, but the facts clogged up and wouldn’t come to mind as easily as he wanted them to. Instead he got a head full of the paper games he would play with Matthew, of the scoldings he would get for not concentrating, of the failed tests and accusations of talking too much. He remembered how much he hated those classes more than he remembered the material - and clearer than that, he remembered how Rodolphus would excel in them, how he would retain the information and form opinions like the model student - the model child he always seemed to be.  “There also seems to be a lot less incest in modern novels, as far as I can see.” Pulling himself out of his thought bubble with a joke, he flashed a grin at Ludo. 

“David?” It sounded... Familiar. He knew of the Biblical character David, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knew of the statue - how, he wasn’t quite sure, as his mother made sure to stamp out as much knowledge of Muggles as she could throughout his life. “Something tells me I might be kicked out of the Ball if I show up wearing nothing, but...” He trailed off suggestively, giving a breath of a laugh, “-I won’t rule it out, either.”

Rabastan was taken aback at the familiar musician, more surprised by Ludo’s knowledge of him than the fact that he suggested it for him. Jupiter Lynch was one of the best known within the genre, so he had little reason to be surprised, but he had heard few others mention him before. He had never really been allowed listen to the music at home, thanks to his parents, but somewhere along the line he’d picked up a record or two. Perhaps it had been because he wasn’t allowed them, but something about the genre made him feel almost dangerous, the crash of drums and hum of guitar coursing not only through his ears but through his blood. Maybe in another life he could have reveled in the community, dressing as he wished, but that was not the life he’d been dealt. Here, now, he knew that punk rock was not something he was supposed to enjoy, not something he was supposed to want to partake in - Hallowe’en, however, was another story.  “Jupiter Lynch of Steal Machine?” His smile broadened, more genuine than the flirty smirks he’d been employing. “Have you seen some of the things that man wears? Daring doesn’t start to cover it, Bagman.”

[imp-deactivated20171219-deactiv]

[thelastblackheir-deactivated201]

“Dammit.”

[rabastans-blog]

“Merlin fucking- Reg, are you alright?” Rabastan picked up his pace, jogging towards his friend. “What happened?” He rooted around in his pockets for a tissue and, failing that, wiped at Regulus’s bloody nose with the back of his shirt sleeve. 

[rabastans-blog]

Toronto, Tel Aviv, Las Vegas.

Toronto: describe your ideal partner

Confident, I like confidence. I like people that know what they want and how to get it. I’m also very much on the tall, dark and han-uh, pretty side of things.

Tel Aviv: what is your favourite thing about your family?

Rodolphus. Coincidentally, he’s the only thing I like about this family. Other than the wine cellar.

Las Vegas: have you ever broken a heart?

I’ve never been with anyone seriously enough for that to happen, so no.